


torn and reborn

by piecesofgold



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M, i lied it's two parts now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofgold/pseuds/piecesofgold
Summary: It’s a shame that never quite goes away, the weight of her family’s disapproving looks and cruel smugness at the so-called proof of Anya’s consequence for being so wild.
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

Tonight was not going the way Anya had expected at all.

The evening itself has been lovely; Maria and Viktor shine like twin suns, the ring on her sister's finger glittering in the light, so much that she finds herself averting her gaze from them. Josie demands all her attention anyway, little hands always tugging at Anya’s skirt.

Sometimes Anya imagines those hands tight around her heartstrings, held fast since the moment she was born. Always tugging and wanting something.

She swings Josie up on her hip, pulling away from a conversation with her cousins. “What is it, _kroshka_?”

Josie wriggles, wanting to be let down. “Auntie Rie says to get you,” she declares, enunciating every word carefully.

“Can Auntie Rie not come herself?” Anya asks, more to herself than anything as she sets the little girl down. 

Josie shrugs, tugging on Anya’s hand. Her best blue dress is creased where she’d spilled juice earlier and the patch has dried, clips in her hair slipping out.

It’s been getting lighter and lighter of late. Anya can’t decide if she should be relieved, as her sisters and parents privately are. It’s salt in a wound that has never quite healed, torn open again and again by her family’s unsubtle comments of _just look at those Romanov blues_ , and _well it’s for the best she looks like you, Anastasia, isn’t it?_

Josie keeps pulling her through the hall, between cousins and aunts and distant relatives Anya has been avoiding since she was seventeen. Some glance sideways but say nothing, and it’s all she can do to shake their eyes off her.

“Careful, girl.” Anya pulls her back, unable to hide a smile. “Watch your don’t fall.”

Josie giggles, stepping back onto Anya’s toes and gripping her fingers. “Not gonna fall, Mommy.” She promises, then points ahead. “Auntie Rie!”

Anya looks up, greeted by Viktor offering a small wave their way and her sister obscured by a stranger hugging her tightly. Josie keeps a hold of her hand the rest of the way, landing herself in front of Viktor proudly.

“Was I summoned?” Anya teases, smoothing her palm over Josie’s head.

“I got her!” Josie says eagerly.

“Thank you very much, Jo.” Viktor bends to tap her nose while Anya holds her tongue at the nickname. _Josie not Jo_ has had a permanent place in her vocabulary the last five years.

“Nastya!” Maria is released at last, practically rocking on her heels with excitement and pressing a hand to Anya’s arm. “Dmitry, you’ve met my sister Anastasia, haven’t you?”

Anya’s blood cements in her veins, eyes snapping to the man at her sister's arm.

“Dmitry,” she repeats dumbly.

He must be - twenty four now, if her hasty calculation is correct. Doesn’t look anything like the gangly nineteen year old she remembers, all awkward limbs and jagged edges. No, the man in front of her, frozen in recognition, is broad shouldered and almost as tall as Viktor, tanned from the excursions he’d wistfully told her about over whiskey Anya shouldn’t have been drinking and warm holds she’d melted into.

Anya grasps Josie’s shoulder, half to steady herself and half to protect her daughter from - something.

Half a decade passes in them staring at each other, until Dmitry clears his throat. “We’ve met,” he says smoothly, dark eyes flickering to the little girl at Anya’s feet.

He frowns, and panic rises in her stomach.

“And who is this?” He asks, reaching down to offer Josie his hand. His tone takes one only ever reserved for children, high and light, but Anya can hear the crack in it.

“My niece,” Maria chimes, apparently oblivious to the sudden tension. “Josephine.”

“Josie.” Anya somehow finds her voice, a reflex. She glances down to where her daughter has gone shy, trying to hide in her mother's dress skirt. “Say hello, baby.”

Josie peeks an eye out, a hand tentatively reaching out. “Hello,” she parrots quietly.

Dmitry’s hand engulfs hers. Anya thinks she might faint at the pressure in her chest.

“I-“ Her voice breaks in her attempt to keep her composure. “Sorry, we should be - getting on, she’s got school tomorrow and I’ve -“ she’s rambling, hands moving of their accord, body preparing to take flight.

Josie is hugging her legs and Viktor is frowning at her. “Are you alright, Nastya?”

“Fine!” Anya winces at the rising octaves in her voice. She can’t look at Dmitry but his eyes are fixed on her, on Josie, frowning and analysing. She doesn’t want to see the moment it dawns on him, doesn’t want Maria and Viktor to see at all. Josie makes a noise of protest when hoisted up into her mother's arms. “It was - nice to see you again, Dmitry.”

They all call after her, concerned. Josie is pouting, legs kicking to be put down. “Don’t wanna go!” She insists unhappily.

Anya kisses her daughter's cheek, heart thumping as they reach the cloakroom. “I know, I’m sorry sweetheart, but -“

“ _Anya_.”

Fuck.

She sets a nearly weeping Josie down, turning slowly to find the last person she wants to see in the doorway. Dmitry’s eyes go from her to Josie again, realisation stuck on his face. She can’t tell if he’s angry, upset or both, but she refuses to cower from it as he slowly approaches.

“Hello,” Josie greets him again, more confident this time. Dmitry blinks at her, clearly still processing her existence that he hadn’t even known of until a few minutes ago.

He can see it, Anya knows. Can see the shape of his mouth in Josie’s, the bridge of her nose and chin.

The dark of her hair.

Dmitry’s jaw is hanging, looking back up at Anya. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Not here,” she blurts, pleads, feeling as hopeless as she did at seventeen with an expanding belly and her mother's disappointed eyes. “Not in front of…” She glances down to where Josie is dancing on the spot, impatient to get back and play with her cousins.

Dmitry is almost shaking, but he nods. “Outside.” He clears his throat. “Please.”

Anya searches his face for any sign of resentment, but only sees desperation.

“You first,” she agrees quietly. “We shouldn’t - don’t let my sisters see you.”

 _We shouldn’t be seen together_ , is what she doesn’t say.

Dmitry nods once, gaze locked on their daughter.

* * *

It’s a shame that never quite goes away, the weight of her family’s disapproving looks and cruel smugness at the so-called proof of Anya’s consequence for being so wild.

More her aunts and cousins than her parents and siblings, but it all stung. She’ll never forget Olga’s disappointed sigh of _oh, Anastasia_ , her mother’s shaking head and father's silence. Tatiana and Maria had had the good graces to be supportive at the news, but their pity was obvious even with their help. Alexei was still so young and coddled that he’d been excited at the prospect of playing with a new baby.

Her extended family were less elusive in their disdain.

“An unwed pregnant teenager, in this family!” Aunt Xenia had hissed to her father when she thought Anya was out of earshot upstairs. “The shame of it, Nicky!”

Xenia hadn't bothered to be there when Josie was born, and Anya can’t say she missed her. Her daughter didn’t deserve to be put on a pedestal as proof of bad choices for the Romanovs. Anya refuses to let it extend beyond her, the main reason she avoids big family gatherings since she moved out, but she’d promised Maria for tonight.

Sat on a rickety bench outside the event hall, she watches her daughter try to clamber into a fountain, steadied by her uncle's hand. Alexei spins her around, making her squeal in delight. Anya can feel Olga and Tatiana hovering at the window, wondering why their brother is the only one allowed near.

She’s not sure she trusts them not to alert their parents, and Alexei certainly won’t want to spoil Maria’s engagement party with the news of Josie’s unknown father suddenly appearing after five years.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dmitry's voice is soft against his tense posture.

Anya shuts her eyes, teeth on edge. “I _did_ ,” she bites. “I _tried_. I called and left messages but - you never once answered.”

“I was in -“

“I don’t care,” she stops him. “And I’m not sorry, Dmitry.” There’s a conviction in her voice as she looks at him, spine rod-straight in her pride. She won’t apologise, not for Josie.

Dmitry’s expression is so earnest it almost makes her falter. All the times she’s imagined telling him, she’s pictured anger, shouting, entitlement to their child. A handful of minutes together since a night five years ago, and so far she’s wrong on all counts.

“What’s her name?”

Anya’s surprised by the simplicity of the question. “Josephine Lynn Romanova,” she tells him. “And it’s Josie, not Jo. She’s very clear about that.”

Dmitry mouths it to himself, eyes crinkled as he looks over at Josie and Alexei in wonderment. “She looks like you.”

Anya takes a long breath. “If you’re about to give me the _I’m her father_ speech -“

He actually laughs at that. “Anya, I’m still stuck on the whole - _father_ thing.” His brow furrows. “But is there - are you - seeing anyone?”

It’s her turn to laugh now. “Right, because a twenty-two year old single mother has men and women falling at her feet.”

“Wouldn’t blame them if they were,” Dmitry says, too soft to be joking.

Vaguely she wonders if this is his shock talking, because how quickly he’s taking it all in stride is unnerving.

Anya sobers, eyes prickling. “Don’t expect anything from you,” she mutters. “We’re fine. She’s fine. I never even told…” she trails off.

Dmitry‘s fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I just moved back, actually. New York stopped agreeing with me.”

She tilts her head at his awkwardness. “What is it you do?”

“Surveyor,” he says flatly.

That surprises her. “Thought you went off to be a journalist.”

He shrugs, mouth set in a grim line. “Change of plans.”

Anya glances up at Josie, now sat on Alexei’s shoulders. “I know the feeling.”

“What about you? Didn’t you want to be -“

“Law school.” Anya shifts uncomfortably. “Sort of got put on hold.”

She’s quietly been applying to a few, now that Josie’s five. As much as she likes her job as a travel agent, she’s starting to feel stuck.

She hasn’t told anyone yet, wants one secret to herself that they won’t look down on.

Dmitry deflates. “I’m sorry. I should’ve -“ he swallows. “I saw, all the missed calls and everything, but -“

“You were an idiot.”

“You met a nineteen year old who isn’t? Anya, if I’d known...” He shakes his head.

“You’d have done what, married me? Spared me humiliation? You barely _knew_ me.” Anya’s fists clench in her lap, forcing herself to calm down - God forbid Josie inherit her temper. “What about now?”

Whatever response he’s about to offer is lost in the patter of feet in painted leather shoes, and Josie throwing herself into Anya’s arms.

“Look what I did!” She exclaims, saturated dress bunched in her hands.

Anya forces her face into a smile, smoothing down the damage. “I think someone had too much fun in the fountain.”

“Sorry,” Alexei cringes.

Anya sticks her tongue out at him, her own dress getting damp. “Shall we say goodbye to Auntie Rie and Uncle Vik before you catch a cold in that dress?”

Josie shrugs, tucking her face into Anya’s neck. “‘Kay.”

She can feel Dmitry watching them, taking every moment in and cataloguing it in his mind. Josie is shy in her tiredness, but Anya knows how quickly that can change. If she doesn’t want a fit before bedtime, she has to leave now.

“Can you tell Mom and Dad -“ she directs at Alexei.

“Sure.” Her brother leans forward to kiss Josie’s temple. “Night, Jo-Jo.”

“ _Not_ happening!” Anya hisses after him, stroking Josie’s hair.

“Can I -“ Dmitry stands up with her, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to ask to hold Josie. “Can I come with you?”

Oh. “To my place?”

“Yeah.”

Her hand flattens in Josie’s back. “I need to put her to bed -“

“No, I know, I mean -“ Dmitry’s hand reaches, unsure, but she doesn’t stop him from stroking the back of Josie’s head. He exhales, dazed. “This. This is what I want, right now. To know you.”

There’s a part of her that wants to refuse him, a stubborn part that’s gotten her through sly comments and pitied gazes and every terrible moment of the last five years. She did it all without him and she can keep doing it.

Dmitry’s not being sly, and there’s no pity in his brown eyes. Anya remembers what pulled her towards him in the first place, seventeen and acting older than she was with all her sisters' friends. He was disarming and honest and she was used to neither of those things, bickering with him easily.

Seventeen and half in love with a boy she’d never see again, after one long night that ended up spiralling her life out of control.

She should tell him no.

“Okay.”

Dmitry looks surprised. “Okay?”

Anya sighs heavily. “I might still be mad at you, and you’ve got every reason to be mad at me, but -“ she shrugs. “Getting to know each other is a start.”

He smiles, an echo of Josie’s. “Out the back gate?”

“My car.”

Josie falls asleep in her booster seat, and Dmitry can’t seem to keep his eyes off her in the rearview mirror, wearing an expression of dazed awe. They’re silent the whole drive, but it’s not uncomfortable. Dmitry hums along to the song low on the radio, fingers tapping his knees.

 _Maybe_ , Anya thinks. _Maybe this time._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! i lied. have part 2.

The question arises between Josie’s seventh birthday and Anya’s twenty-fourth.

Dmitry asks her on a Friday, right after she’s finished her spring semester and is pulling extra shifts at the travel agents. Josie’s in her room, playing with the beginners circuit kit Olga gifted for her birthday. Anya listens out for her mumbling during intervals of drawing up plans for Tatiana’s birthday - still a month away, but with three of their birthdays and their mothers in June it’s a whirlwind she’s used to.

(That, and Anya’a not very good at having nothing to do.)

She can feel Dmitry looking at her over his laptop where they’re sat together at the table, probably still carefully editing his first article that’s due to be submitted in a fortnight.

Anya nudges his foot lightly under the table, eyes still fixed on her own work. “Staring isn’t improving my ability to read your mind, you know,” she tells him.

Dmitry makes a soft noise, tapping her wrist. “Do you want to get married?”

 _That_ makes her head snap up, almost certain she’s misheard. “What?”

Dmitry carries on like he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell on her. “I don’t have a ring or anything-“

“Sorry, can we go back to the part where you proposed?” She interrupts, stunned, pressing her hand over his. “You want to marry me?”

Dmitry actually looks confused. “Of course I want to marry you. I love you.”

Anya tightens her fingers around his. Almost two years since he came back to Evergreen, fifteen months dating, twelve months living together and every single time he’s said those three words to her something has fluttered in her chest.

It’s the same feeling she’s gotten watching him with Josie the past two years, watching the eggshells he’d walked on turn to tentative optimism to the purest form of love Anya has ever seen. The first time Josie called him Dad, Dmitry didn’t stop smiling for a month.

It’s been a privilege, watching him be a father, even tinged with the bittersweetness of what he missed.

She thinks of the legitimation forms they’re due to drop off, forms that will put Dmitry’s name on Josie’s birth certificate, that will attach her father's surname to hers, too. Josie was the one who’d brought that up, surprisingly.

“Why’s Jace got Vik’s name?” She asked Anya after little Jasper’s christening.

“Aunt Maria and Uncle Vik wanted him to have it, sweetheart,” Anya explained, fiddling with the SatNav because Maria and Viktor _had_ to have it miles out of town.

“Auntie Rie wanted his name too,” Dmitry told her. “She’s Maria Zborovskaya now, remember?”

“Oh.” Josie kicked the back of Anya’s seat. “And I have Mommy’s name?”

“That’s right, baby.”

“Can I have Daddy’s, too?”

Anya and Dmitry glanced at each other, and it had taken Anya a moment to find her voice. “Do you want that name instead?” She asked carefully.

Josie frowned. “I want both.”

Dmitry relaxed, squeezing Anya’s knee. “Sudayeva and Romanova?”

Josie yawned, nodding. “Yes, please.”

Anya looked at Dmitry, clearly trying not to grin like a fool. “I don't see why not.”

She draws a circle with her finger on his hand, now. “Could do it when we give those forms in,” she suggests.

Dmitry’s grinning. “Is that a yes?”

Anya feels her mouth twitch. “Yes,” she says softly. “Though, I’m not changing my name all the way. You’ll have to settle for Sudayeva Romanova.”

Dmitry nods, kisses her thoroughly, then pulls her up to help with dinner.

Anya orders a matching set of slim white-gold bands before work the next day, Dmitry books their appointment, and Josie jumps up and down when they ask if she wants to be their bridesmaid.

“Like Vik an’ Rie an’ Olya an’ Pear?” She gasps. She still can’t quite twist her tongue around the name Olga’s husband, Pierre.

“A bit,” Dmitry says. “Ours might be a bit smaller than their weddings.”

Josie considers this. “Can I get a new dress?”

“What do we say, Josie?” Anya asks gently.

Josie’s face scrunches, but she straightens up. “Dad, _please_ can I have a new dress?”

Resigned to his fate, Dmitry lets her pull him around a department store for four hours until Josie is satisfied.

“No too late to take it all back,” Anya teases him, even if there’s a small part of her that’s still surprised he stuck with them so fast.

Dmitry looks at her very seriously, leaning over to kiss her neck. “Never,” he promises. “Never would.”

* * *

Mid morning, she’s sitting in a Colorado courthouse wearing a new cobalt blue dress, and keeps trying to pull the hem over her knees, restless energy knotted under her ribs. Maria is kneeling down, fussing over Josie’s polka dot dress and the bag of rice she’s desperate to throw.

Anya had told her that Colorado law doesn't require marital witnesses, but her sister had insisted.

“She’ll be staying with us while you two jet off to paradise anyway,” Maria waved her off, and Anya relented.

One less person to break it to afterwards, she supposes. Her mother will be disappointed they didn’t have a big wedding, but given the hints Alix has been dropping ever since Dmitry materialised back into Anya’s life, she can hardly complain.

“Cold feet?” Dmitry asks quietly, half joking. The marriage license is in his hand, constantly being flattened over his leg.

“Nope,” Anya assures him, tugging on his new blazer sleeve. “Toasty warm.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head.

So much has happened in such a short time, and today is essentially a culmination of every single choice Anya’s made over the last seven years. But marrying Dmitry isn’t a difficult choice. It’s the easiest one she’s ever made.

“Daddy!” Josie bounds back over, light hair loose around her shoulders. She presses the hair tie into his waiting palm, turning around to let him untangle it.

“Which one do you want?” He asks her, already sectioning her hair out.

“Ummmmmm.” Josie bounces on her heels. “Mermaid, please.”

Mermaid translates as fishtail, Anya knows. She leans her cheek to Dmitry’s shoulder, watching him braid their daughters hair.

Twenty minutes go by before someone calls them in, and suddenly everything is on fast forward. They present their State IDs and marriage license to the Judge, declare the ceremony is lawful, Josie eagerly gives them the rings to exchange then decides to hug Dmitry’s legs which sets Anya off giggling when she’s supposed to be repeating words and makes his voice shake with barely contained laughter - and then it’s done. They’re married.

Maria cheers and Josie throws her rice, grains of which get stuck in Anya’s shoes and will later be found in Dmitry’s blazer pocket. He spins Anya around twice, once in the office and again outside the courthouse when they’ve submitted everything, then scoops Josie up in his arms to hug her just as tight.

Anya doesn’t realise she’s crying until Josie presses her hand against her cheek. “Why are you sad, Mommy?”

She laughs wetly, Dmitry’s arm tight around her waist and Maria taking all the photos she can with shaky hands. “I’m not sad, Josie girl,” she promises, kissing her daughter's cheek. “I’m happy.”

Dmitry takes her hand, his ring chiming against Anya’s. She presses her face to his shoulder, arms stretching around him and Josie.

Nothing has ever felt more complete.

**Author's Note:**

> probably the last thing i’ll be writing in a while bc Life so. bleh.


End file.
